


Senses working overtime

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [38]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Begging, Blindfolds, Ice Play, M/M, Master/Slave, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Restraints, Sensation Play, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Temperature Play, Tickling, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Ven is a little tied up right now. It's not going to stop his master playing with him, of course.





	Senses working overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Senses Working Overtime by XTC
> 
> _Senses working overtime_  
>  _Trying to taste the difference 'tween a lemon and a lime_  
>  _Pain and pleasure and the church bells softly chime_

Although Ven now more usually slept in his master's bed than not, he still had a cot in the _contubernium_ , the slaves' dormitory. And more recently, the mattress in the corner of his master's room which was where he had spent the first few nights as his master's _concubīnus_ had been replaced with a cot identical to those found in the dormitory.

He wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing, right now. He was lying on his back on the cot, naked and blindfolded, cuffed wrists and ankles fastened to short chains wrapped around the metal bed-frame – it was a narrow bed so he was not stretched spread-eagle as he would be if he was chained down on his master's bed. He really ought to be used to being naked while his master was clothed, he thought, trying to work out whereabouts his master was in the room. There were some things nobody could get used to, and naked-and-blindfolded was definitely one of those things. His bum was empty and Master had removed the harness after putting the blindfold on him.

Ven had been told to move the cot to the middle of the room and strip the covers off it before stripping and lying down. The blindfold was the nice soft leather one – red leather, to match the wrist and ankle cuffs – with soft pads over the eyes that blocked out every chink of light. The cuffs were not the heavy-duty leather ones Master had for restraining recalcitrant slaves, but were soft and adjustable, with heavy-duty D-rings that could be clipped together or fastened to furniture, whatever Master chose. Just because they were soft did not mean that they weren't tough; there was a strong leather band around them that the D-rings were fastened to. The only way for Ven to get out of them was to have them unbuckled, and that was not something he could do himself once he was fastened down.

Ven could not see anything other than darkness, although it was only early evening yet. His other senses seemed to be heightened by the lack of sight; he could hear his master's quiet footsteps as he paced around the room, probably studying Ven from different angles. There was the soft sound of something scraping – a match being struck, perhaps? A soft click that sounded like a light-switch.

"Very pretty you look, boy, all tied up for me," Master said and Ven jerked in surprise as a finger traced a line gently down his chest to his stomach, lifting before it touched his prick.

"Th... Thank you, Master," he managed, slumping back. Was it his imagination, or was the room a little warmer than it had been?

"All mine, pretty boy," Master said, and dragged something soft that felt like fur – could it be fur? – across his chest.

Ven could not help but be amused at the description of himself as a _puer dēlicātus_ ; he was more than ten years older than any boy who could accurately be thus described. Pretty boys were prepubescent, as a rule.

The stroking, whatever it was, continued, slightly ticklish, smoothing and soothing, all over him, everywhere except for his cock.

"You know, pet, the benefits of having your pubic hair removed is that, quite apart from the visual appeal, it leaves those areas more sensitive," Master said, and the fur (or whatever it was) gently ran down the insides of his thighs, first on one side, then the other. Ven twitched, jerking in his bonds.

"Silly boy," he added fondly, still teasing. "You may as well lie still; you know you're not getting out of this until I unfasten you."

That was beside the point, of course; Ven _couldn't_ lie still, and his master knew it.

He was panting a little when the sensations finally stopped. He had a moment's respite and then a hand tangled in his hair, tugging possessively, pulling his head back and then he was being kissed. Not gently, the way Ven would kiss a girl he liked, but hungrily, forcefully, his master dominating him, claiming his mouth with little regard for whether Ven could – or would – reciprocate.

"Such a pretty mouth, just made to be kissed, or to suck cock," Master said into Ven's ear once the kiss ended, leaving Ven gasping for breath. "And such a pretty boy, all laid out for me to play with."

Something ran down Ven's side, something soft and light, lighter than the fur. He twitched away from it as it ran back up to his armpits, as hairless as his groin and exposed because his wrists were chained to the bed-frame. He twisted and jerked against the restraints as the teasing feather-light touch danced from one sensitive area to the next, teasing, tickling, toying with him as he attempted to wriggle away from it, or to protect himself against the gentle unseen onslaught that was making him laugh despite himself.

"Tickles, Master... please... not... not fair...!"

"Precisely, pet." Ven could practically hear the leer in his master's voice. "Why should it be fair?"

There was another pause, and then another sensation, a spiky pricking sensation as what felt like a needle or a set of needles ran a line down Ven's arm. It felt harsh, almost painful, after the soft teasing of before, and then it was gone, only to trace a circle around one nipple, then the other, and then a line right over one, and across his chest to the other. And then he was being teased with two opposing sensations at once, the spiky prickling running down one side as the gentle whisper of what had to be a feather ran down the other. The two things danced over his skin, mirroring each other's movements, completely different sensations that confused his nerve-endings, one tickling, one almost painful.

They met at his crotch, the tickling circling his prick, chased by the harsh spikes. The feather ignored his hard cock, but the spikes ran up one side, over the head and down the other and then he was left, gasping, panting, a sob caught in his throat because that had been so unexpected and just on this side of painful. 

"You look so deliciously helpless, pet," Master said. "All laid out for me to do what I want with you. This is going to be fun."

As if his master hadn't been enjoying himself before. Ven tried to prepare himself for what might come next, which was all but impossible when he couldn't see and had no warning of what might be in store.

He arched as a sudden stream of some hot liquid landed on his chest. It cooled rapidly, hardening into a smooth substance that stuck to his skin. Wax, he thought, coming to the realisation in the split-second before more wax dripped onto him, landing on his stomach. On a nipple, on the soft skin of his inner thigh, on his left arm, his shoulder, just below his other nipple, on his balls (which made him groan, jerking his ankles to try to close his legs), a line leading up from his stomach.

He whimpered and moaned, writhing, trying to process the conflicting sensations.

" _cantus glaciēi ignisque_ ," Master said, sounding entirely too amused. Ven had no time to parse the words before he was subjected to the unexpected freezing sensation of an ice-cube circling some of the hardened wax. He renewed his writhing.

"Oh, please... please..."

"Please, what, pet?"

"Please... oh! Too... Oh, it's cold! Too much – too cold!"

"Too cold?" Wax dripped onto his skin where the ice cube had just been, feeling even hotter because of the contrast.

The ice-cube ran over his chest, circling his nipples, the sensation dulled as it ran over the wax drips. More wax dripped onto unmarked skin as Ven moaned, twitching and twisting under the onslaught until it was gone, leaving him panting and trembling.

"Such a pretty boy, with pretty moans and whimpers."

His ankles were released from the chains keeping him pulled straight, and his legs were bent, pushed up and apart to expose his hole, the most private part of him. Master's hands cupped his buttocks – smooth, unmarked skin – and a thumb pressed against his hole.

"Such pretty noises you make, boy," Master told him and pressed that threatening thumb inside, making Ven whimper as it breached him. It stayed there for a moment before Master adjusted his position, pulling Ven's legs over his shoulders to get the angle he wanted, and pressed his prick in, all the way to the root as Ven moaned.

"Your prick looks very pretty, stiff and hard like that," Master told him, and shifted position slightly, placing his hands by Ven's shoulders and resting his weight on them, his face mere inches from Ven's; Ven could feel his breath and the heat of his skin as the mattress dipped. He was nearly bent in half, his legs still resting on his master's shoulders.

"This is nice," Master said conversationally, the words sending gentle puffs of air into Ven's face. "But you might want a bit more than this. You'll have to beg me for it, though."

Ven looked up at where he thought his master's face was, though the darkness of the blindfold was impenetrable. "Please, Master," he managed and stopped, only to have a nipple tweaked, which made him gasp.

"P... please, Master... please f... fuck me, Master."

"There's a good boy, pet." He began to thrust, the angle particularly deep and pleasurable. "You are a pretty little fuck-toy, a very sweet little bugger. _tu pēdīcāre mihi placet._ "

Ven had no purchase to press back and reciprocate, although he could wriggle a little bit. His cock was hard, leaking a little, and he choked back a groan as Master wrapped a hand around it and began to tease it, though his own motions didn't let up and his own prick kept fucking into Ven's arse.

The hand didn't remain on Ven's prick for long before shifting back to the mattress beside Ven's head as he gave two or three more hard deep thrusts, filling Ven's hole with spurts of warm semen. Ven was close, but not close enough to come as his master collapsed on top of him, pressing him to the mattress with his whole weight, his spent cock buried inside him as deep as it would go.

"Please, Master... please, may I come?" he asked, pulling at his wrists to try to get them free, despite the total impossibility of that happening.

The weight of Master's head shifted from Ven's shoulder. "No. We shall see if you may come in our next recording session but you won't be coming before that, even if I have to lock your pretty cock up to stop you playing with it before then."

Ven gave a silent groan. He would do it, too, given less than half an excuse.

They lay there for a few more minutes before Master sighed and pushed himself off his slave, pulling his prick out of him. He held Ven's ankle, keeping his legs open, probably so he could admire Ven's hole slowly leaking his seed.

" _vidēri perfutūtum es_." Master sounded amused, most unfairly so, because it was _his_ fault Ven looked completely fucked.

Master finally let Ven's ankle go, giving him a slap on the bum before unfastening the blindfold and reaching to unclip his wrist cuffs from the chains wrapped around the bed-frame. Ven blinked up at him in the golden glow cast by several candles scattered around the room. Even that gentle light was bright after the total darkness he had just been in.

"Up you get. Go and wash off – and rinse out – then come and join me in bed."

"Yes, Master," he managed, scrambling unsteadily to his feet to head to the bathroom. It was most unfair. Even when he'd just come, Master never seemed as thoroughly tired out as Ven did.

Washing didn't take very long; removing the wax took the longest, though it just pulled off (Ven couldn't imagine how hard it would be if he _hadn't_ had his body-hair removed). Rinsing out, as he did every night, was a simple if somewhat uncomfortable operation, and he returned to Master's bed clean, naked and on edge. Not to be allowed to come at all until the next video recording... 

Well, if life was fair, Ven would have been a freeborn citizen. Or Master would be a fellow slave... no. No, that was an impossible thought, he decided, slipping into bed beside his owner, who was now clad in a comfortable cotton sleeping-tunic.

He snuggled into Master's shoulder as Master draped his arm over him, his hand finding Ven's bum and cupping it, one finger settling possessively right over Ven's still empty hole.

"Who owns this?"

Ven squeezed his eyes closed. "You do, Master."

"That's right. Good boy." The hand left his bum, trailing over his hip to his cock, pressed between them. "And this?"

"You, Master."

"And if I say you don't come?"

"Then... I don't come, Master."

"Good boy!" 

Ven's prick had hardened again in his master's hand, and Master continued to stroke and tease at it gently, his touch light, despite the awkward angle. As soon as Ven's hips moved, thrusting his prick into his master's hand despite himself, the hand moved back to his bum, the finger resting directly over his empty hole.

"Go to sleep, pet."

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
>  _contubernium_ \- barrack-room or dormitory  
>  _concubīnus_ \- male concubine, male sex-slave  
>  _puer dēlicātus_ \- 'pretty boy'. The "exquisite" or "dainty" child-slave chosen by his master for his beauty as a "boy toy" and cast in the passive role of receiving anal penetration.  
>  _cantus glaciēi ignisque_ \- A song of ice and fire. (At least, I think I declined it right, and I can't remember if it's allowable to use _-que_ (and, as in Senatus Populusque Romanus) for cases other than nominative!!)  
>  _tu pēdīcāre mihi placet_ \- Literally 'to bugger you pleases me'; a better idiomatic translation would be 'I like to bugger you'. The only time you'll see a capital letter used to begin a Latin word is when that word is a proper noun (a name); it is perfectly correct grammar to begin a Latin sentence with a lower-case letter!  
>  _vidēri perfutūtum es_ \- I _think_ (hope!) that's the correct Latin for 'You look thoroughly fucked'


End file.
